


Heat Riser

by decay



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (unrelated to real world events), Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Selfcest, Sickfic, Video Game Mechanics, flu season, follows base game P5, inappropriate use of cognitive psience, vaguely canon divergent, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decay/pseuds/decay
Summary: That night, the only unnerving thing was the shadow – not a capital-SShadow(God, he hoped not) – shifting just out of sight when he was getting ready for bed. Darkness always seemed to cling to the corners of the dusty attic, and maybe it was just the fever-haze starting to settle in, but Akira could swear that something in the corner of his eye moved at the same time he did. No amount of searching with his flashlight app on revealed anything, though, and his eyelids were getting too heavy to worry about it.If I die, I die,he thought irritably as he pulled his covers over himself and set his alarm.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira & Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Kurusu Akira/Joker, Persona 5 Protagonist & Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Persona 5 Protagonist/Joker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95
Collections: Little Black Dress Exchange 2020





	Heat Riser

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinereous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinereous/gifts).



> Hi cinereous! I loved your letter - you have excellent taste! I liked the way you broke down Akira's character in your letter, and I wanted to try to build on that. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Thank you so much to [azurrys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurrys) for beta reading this fic for me and being so supportive, and especially for putting up with all of my late-night questions and encouraging me to keep going!

In the afternoon of Monday, November 14th, the flu season was going strong.

Morgana was quick to point the fact out as soon as the world around the Phantom Thieves faded to the familiar, eerie red of Mementos. His suspicion that the flu season in the real world might have an effect on the Shadows was proven correct within the first few fights – some of the Shadows were inflicted with despair, and the first time they’d had an easy victory Futaba whooped loudly in Akira’s ear.

“Hell yeah!” she cheered as the Shadows in front of them succumbed. “Easy exp! We can totally farm today!”

Akira nodded, smiling slightly at her excitement. The expressions of his friends seemed lighter as they cleared the block, too. Things were going well, and time was going by quickly. It was routine, safe, and almost boring.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Morgana admonished at the rest stop at the end of the block. “Some Shadows might be easy victories because of the flu, but it’s still going to get tougher as we keep going down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryuji said dismissively, a wide grin on his face. “It’s been easy pickings so far, and whatever’s down there’s nothin’ we can’t handle. Right, Joker?”

“Sure.” Akira agreed easily when Ryuji looked to him for support. The Shadows in the previous block had been significantly weaker than their Personas had been, so the ones in the next block shouldn’t be too much stronger. Besides, he had plenty of healing items in case things went south.

“Speaking of the flu season,” Akechi cut in suddenly, “Joker, are you sure we should continue today?”

“What do you mean?” Ann spoke up next and frowned at Akechi from behind her mask, glancing between him and Akira. 

Akechi looked back at her with raised eyebrows. “You didn’t notice?” His voice was as mild as ever, but Ann bristled. Akira could sense her irritation from the way she crossed her arms. “His voice has been scratchier than normal all afternoon. Perhaps he’s feeling under the weather.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us are detectives, Sherlock,” Ryuji grumbled. He shot Akira a concerned glance, which Akira responded to with a reassuring smile.

Akechi turned his surprised look to Ryuji, then, and Ryuji scoffed when he caught his eyes. “You do talk to him every day, don’t you?”

“Okay, enough.” Makoto stood up at the same time Ryuji did, and she stepped between him and Akechi. She stared both boys down until Ryuji huffed and leaned against the wall and Akechi just smiled, but said nothing further. Then, she turned to Akira. “How _are_ you feeling? If you’re starting to catch a cold we should turn back immediately. Your health takes priority.”

Haru nodded eagerly, jumping in immediately. “Yes, I agree! Do you need to see a doctor? I can call someone as soon as we leave!”

“No, no,” Akira all but interrupted Haru, trying to stop the worrying before it snowballed and trying not to clear his throat. Damn Akechi had him self-conscious about it now. “No need. I never get sick. I’m sure it’ll pass.”

Morgana narrowed his eyes at Akira. “You’ve never fought Shadows with a Persona for hours after school nearly every day, either.”

“If we go back now we could just hang out at Leblanc,” Futaba suggested. “I mean, if I’m gonna be out with anyone it’d be you guys – most of you guys – but I’m not gonna say no to going home if Joker’s getting sick.”

Akechi sighed when Futaba threw a meaningful look at him along with her jab, but Ann nodded and Yusuke chimed in too. “I agree as well,” Yusuke said. “Perhaps a warm meal and rest would –”

“I’m fine,” Akira said firmly. “We can’t pass up an opportunity to go further into Mementos with such an advantage.”

“Joker –”

“Queen, I’m fine,” Akira repeated, putting on his most confident smirk and shoving his hands in his pockets. He spun on his heel pointedly, letting his coattails fly behind him as he walked towards the dark entrance of the next block. “If everyone’s rested, let’s keep going.”

A beat later, the rest of the Phantom Thieves were right behind him, his confidence infectious.

\-----

Things weren’t really fine.

When the Phantom Thieves emerged from Mementos several hours later, the first thing Akira did was stop and let out a tiny kitten sneeze into his sleeve.

“Dude,” Ryuji said, turning around and staring at Akira, “what was that?”

“A sneeze, you idiot,” Ann said, elbowing him. “Don’t be rude. Bless you, Akira.”

“Thanks.” Akira sniffed once and readjusted his glasses. Morgana popped his head out of the school bag and narrowed his eyes. Akira caught the look and cut Morgana off before he could speak. “It’s nothing, just the cold air.”

“It has been rather chilly lately,” Haru agreed. She still looked worried, and she was staring at Akira’s face a little too intensely.

“Agreed. I strongly encourage you to get some extra rest, even if you _are_ fine.” Akira had to resist raising an eyebrow at Akechi’s sudden concern. When he caught the young detective’s eyes, Akechi just gave him his usual unreadable smile.

Akira just nodded. “Sure,” he said, “I’ll do that. I can’t afford to let the cold weather get to me when we’re about to send a calling card and exams are coming up.”

_“EXAMS are coming up?!”_

“Ryuji, they told us the dates today! And Akira, don’t get him all worked up – they’re still a month away!”

“I don’t pay attention to shit like that! Man, you scared me! I’m not worryin’ about that until they get closer.”

“You know, you better start studying now if you want to pass! What are your grades, anyway?!”

Akira drowned out Ann and Ryuji’s bickering with practiced ease, and Akechi just continued smiling at him, only giving the group a wave and a “well, then” before disappearing back into the station.

Makoto sighed as soon as he was out of sight and glanced from Ryuji and Ann, who had somehow managed to rope Yusuke into their circular argument, back to Akira. “Clever.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Akira said mildly, with the hint of a smile.

“Hm.” Makoto just smiled and closed her eyes, listening, then fixed Akira with a more serious look. “Well, alright. Despite whatever else Akechi says, he was right about this. Get some rest.”

“I will,” Akira said honestly. His bag shifted as Morgana seemed satisfied and ducked back inside.

After another long moment, Makoto took pity on him and turned away, jumping right into scolding Ryuji and starting to herd the group back into the station.

\-----

The next morning, Akira woke to Morgana jumping up and down on his leg and the sound of his alarm. His clothes were sticking to his skin, and he felt like there was cotton wrapped around his head as he fumbled with his phone, blearily scanning the room while still half asleep. The shadows looked too deep and too long, and it was a few minutes past his usual wake-up time. Damn.

“Hey,” Morgana said sternly as soon as Akira had turned his alarm off, “are you feeling sick?”

“I’m fine.” Akira cleared his throat and Morgana gave him a pointed look. When the cat started coming closer to his face to scrutinize him further, Akira forced himself up and put his glasses on, unbalancing Morgana. “Really. I even went to bed early last night – you were there.”

“You keep saying that, but you also keep sounding sick.” Morgana followed Akira around the room as he swung himself out of bed and started to gather the pieces of his uniform. He turned around on the bed and faced the wall when Akira started to change. “We can’t have our leader out of commission, you know!”

Akira just hummed as he slid his shirt over his head and finished getting dressed. “I told you before,” he said, pausing beside his open bag and waiting for Morgana to hop in, “I never get sick.”

He wasn’t lying, technically – he’d had colds before, sure, but they were so few and far between that he might as well have never been sick. And Akira always recovered quickly. Even if he _was_ getting sick, which, now that he thought about it, he might be, he’d recover soon. Akira just had to pretend like everything was fine until it was.

If anything, becoming a Phantom Thief had made it easier to lie. Akira had always been good at being unreadable and keeping his opinions to himself, but now that he was actively practicing lying, he could tell that he was getting better at it. Even when Ryuji stopped him that morning to remind him of the plan to send the calling card on Friday, and even when Mr. Inui called on him to answer a question in class, Akira managed to keep his usual nonchalant tone despite the pressure building behind his eyes.

Luckily, he knew his friends’ schedules pretty well. Ann and Mishima were easy to sidetrack in class, and he sent out a group text that afternoon that he would be busy with his part time job. Things were going smoothly (if he didn’t count the fact that he was feeling worse and more tired as the day wore on), and when Futaba mentioned being lonely off-hand he casually offered Morgana to her, who she happily coerced into spending some time at the Sakura house. Sojiro only offered weak arguments, and Akira knew him well enough to see that he was secretly happy about having Morgana over for a while. Sojiro had a soft spot for the cat from the very beginning. Morgana did give him something of a glare, but Akira just gave him a half smile and a wave and flipped Leblanc’s sign to _closed_ as Futaba carried him into the darkness.

That night, the only unnerving thing was the shadow – not a capital-S _Shadow_ (God, he hoped not) – shifting just out of sight when he was getting ready for bed. Darkness always seemed to cling to the corners of the dusty attic, and maybe it was just the fever-haze starting to settle in, but Akira could swear that something in the corner of his eye moved at the same time he did. No amount of searching with his flashlight app on revealed anything, though, and his eyelids were getting too heavy to worry about it.

 _If I die, I die,_ he thought irritably as he pulled his covers over himself and set his alarm.

\-----

Akira didn’t wake up to his alarm – instead, he woke up because someone had turned it off _._

“ _Morgana …_ ” he whined into his pillow, fighting through the haze of sleep and probably fever, “you know I have to get … up …”

A quiet, low laugh made Akira shoot up too quickly. The room spun nauseatingly as he remembered that Morgana was with Futaba and that was absolutely not Sojiro’s voice, so who –

“Now that’s a rare treat, coming from you,” the voice said, and Akira glared into the early morning gloom. A figure stood just out of sight – not that he could really make much out between the room spinning and the way his eyes refused to focus. “But I do love a look of surprise. Even if it’s on _our_ face.”

“Impossible,” Akira hissed as the figure emerged from the shadows, signature smirk under his mask, hands in his pockets, with confident stride that sent his coattails flying behind him in an unfelt breeze.

_Joker._

His mind raced (and his head throbbed, but that wasn’t important right then) – he was either hallucinating or in some real deep shit. Potentially both, with how the Metaverse worked. Crap. Akira glanced around quickly. Joker had his phone in hand, and his closest weapon was hidden carefully in the work desk.

“Relax,” Joker said with a laugh in his voice. “You’re not in any danger. You’re still in the real world. Promise, scout’s honor, cross my heart, all that.” Akira resisted rolling his eyes and settled for continuing to glare. “Your only distorted desires are wanting to go to school with, you know – probably the flu.”

Akira stared at Joker for a long moment before he decided it wasn’t worth it. He was – probably, somehow – telling the truth. If his alter ego had wanted to hurt him, he would’ve by then. “I told Morgana yesterday, and I’ll tell you today,” Akira hissed, irritated, “I’m _fine._ ” Even as he said so, his body betrayed him and he lapsed into a coughing fit. Joker frowned and reached for him, but he swung his legs out of bed and got up quickly before dodging Joker’s hand with a defiant glare, turning away and reaching for his uniform.

“Oh – no way, not happening.”

Akira flinched when a red gloved hand gripped his wrist, mostly out of surprise. He hadn’t quite believed that what he was seeing – _himself –_ was real, but the hand was very much preventing him from grabbing his clothes.

Taking advantage of Akira’s lapse in attention, Joker stepped forward into his space, somehow both guiding and forcing him back step by step until the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed again. He lost his balance, dropping onto the mattress and feeling his head swim at the sudden movement. Akira tensed, glaring up at his reflection, and they stared at each other for a long moment before Joker sighed, looking down at Akira with a look of exasperation. His mask disappeared in a flare of heatless flame and he knelt in front of Akira, coattails splaying in pools of shadow around him.

In the face of his own half worried, half tired expression, Akira turned his glare to the stairs. They were, much to his dismay, a little blurry. “Can’t afford to miss school,” he said, definitely not pouting. “Even if Takemi wrote me a doctor’s note – and she would – the vice principal wouldn’t believe me. Or I’d get blamed for it. You _know_.”

Joker laughed, an edge of humorlessness in his voice that Akira knew meant they were in agreement. Despite that, Joker didn’t seem to be any more willing to let Akira stand up. Joker was still crowding him, and Akira was about to say as much when the words died on his tongue. In one smooth movement, Joker lifted his free hand, the one that wasn’t still gripping Akira’s wrist, to his mouth and bit the fingertip of his scarlet glove, pulling it off and letting it dangle precariously in his teeth. Akira’s already flushed face warmed further, and Joker just flashed Akira a smirk around the glove.

Akira cleared his throat pointedly. “I’m serious,” he said, trying, in vain, to tug his wrist free from Joker’s grip. “I need to get to school.”

Without warning, Joker reached out and shifted Akira’s bangs from his forehead with surprising tenderness, uncaring that his hair stuck to his skin slightly. It took all of Akira’s self-control to not close his eyes and lean into the cool touch, but Joker frowned, sighed, then withdrew his hand all too quickly. “Fever,” was all he said, letting his glove fall into his lap. He picked it up, then stood. “And a dry cough, chills, headache, dizziness, blurry vision, muscle aches … I’m not missing anything, am I?”

Akira was quiet for a moment struggling to think of a retort (to himself, of all things) before he just sighed. “No. But I still need to –”

“Go to school. I know. Or, rather … _we_ need to go to school.” Joker grinned, widely, and then a wave of flames transformed his Phantom Thief outfit into the exact same Shujin Academy uniform that Akira was wearing, the same scuff on the inside of his left shoe and all. It was uncanny, and reminded Akira of that first day in Kamoshida’s castle when his outfit kept changing back and forth. The only thing out of place was the confident grin on his face.

Joker seemed to realize this at the same time Akira did, and his eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned in, closer and closer to Akira, staring him in the eyes all the while – and gingerly plucked the glasses from his face, twirling them between his fingers before sliding them on himself. Joker scrunched his nose then his expression melted into the eerily familiar look of vague disinterest, tilting his head just so the light caught his glasses. “There. Perfect fit.”

Akira was stiff with uncertainty for a moment, the feeling squirming in his stomach, before he felt his face heat up – from the fever, surely – and he just huffed and turned away. Joker laughed, but instead of the sharp teasing edge that Akira expected, it was quiet … almost thoughtful. Just as he turned back to say something, Joker ruffled his hair – _“hey!”_ – and then pressed his hands against Akira’s shoulders firmly, but gently.

“Now, now, none of that,” Joker said with a grin that looked more like the trickster-thief he was and less like the student he was pretending to be. “I’m going to school for you so _you_ can rest _._ ” His face just kept getting closer and closer to Akira’s, and he began to relent and let Joker push him back down into the mattress. “Think you can do that for me?”

Joker was so close Akira could practically count his eyelashes. He didn’t feel any breath from his alter ego, even when he paused, hovering just above Akira’s face, almost touching. But perhaps that was … normal? Well, no – none of it was normal. Not the fact that Joker was in the real world; not the fact that he was planning on taking Akira’s place for the day so he could sleep; not that Joker was just a breath away, practically pinning him against the bed and hovering a scant few inches above his face – “I … yeah,” Akira managed weakly.

For a long moment, the light streaming through the window beside him reflected off of Joker’s glasses perfectly, obscuring his eyes. The brief pause made uncertainty bubble up in Akira’s chest again – this was definitely karmic justice for all the times he’d done the same thing to someone else. Joker’s lips broke his stoic façade with a grin and he leaned in a little more, patting Akira’s cheek. “Good boy,” he said, teasing Akira before bouncing away and out of range of Akira’s half-hearted swipe.

Akira coughed pointedly, trying to force back the heat that erupted over his cheeks. “Give my phone back, at least.”

“No can do,” Joker said, twirling the damn thing between his long fingers and slipping it into his pocket. “You never leave home without it, so neither can I.”

“Bastard,” Akira muttered with no real venom in his voice as he slid down his pillow and threw his covers over himself again.

“Punk,” Joker shot back, sticking his tongue out as he grabbed Akira’s school bag. He lingered by the stairs for a moment, looking back at him. “Sleep. I’m serious.”

“Alright, alright. Fine.” Akira rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the hint of a smile from tugging at the corners of his lips. Joker grinned, then let his expression fade back into Akira’s neutral, vaguely disinterested gaze, heading down the staircase.

It was strange to hear faint voices of Sojiro greeting him, and even stranger to hear his own voice greeting Sojiro back. This time, Akira didn’t bother forcing back the smile on his face as he snuggled further into his mattress, pulling his covers up to his chin, and turning to bask in the warm, early morning sunlight. It was nice to be free of his responsibilities, even if just for a day. Sleep would be good for him. He could be well-rested, get over this cold, get back to normal soon, forget about how, yes, he always knew he was considered pretty but seeing another live version of himself inches from his face was different from in the mirror and –

Sleep. Sleep sounded like a good plan.

\-----

Akira slept on and off, occasionally moving around or getting a book when he couldn’t rest. He snuck down to the toilet once or twice, only after carefully checking to make sure Sojiro wouldn’t catch him. The corner of his table was starting to fill with empty water and tea bottles that he’d collected over the past day or so.

When he heard the chime of the clock downstairs indicate that Joker should be getting out of school soon, Akira set his book down and crawled back under the covers. One last nap, then he’d be awake for when Joker got back.

\-----

Akira woke with a start when he felt the wind knocked out of him, like someone had punched him in the gut. He groaned and shot up, looking around for a threat, but the attic was as still and peaceful as it had been before he fell asleep. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams streaming in through the windows, and perhaps he did feel a bit warm, but –

He hissed in pain as he felt something scratch his face, and when he lifted a hand to touch the stinging area, his fingers came back red. Blood?

Akira’s head swam – half from fever, and half from disorientation. It felt like he was mid-fight. His heart thrummed an erratic beat inside his chest, he felt tense and focused all at once, he felt a sharp drop in his energy and the vague impression, somehow, of a Ziodyne –

Faintly, he heard someone _tsk_ and then his own voice, far away as if he was underwater –

_“Go back to sleep. I have it under control.”_

Before Akira could question his other self, or even respond, a wave of bone-deep exhaustion washed over him and pulled him, unwillingly, back to sleep. He was only vaguely aware of the rustle of his covers as he fell back again.

\-----

The next thing Akira saw as he blinked the drowsiness and sense of disorientation away was himself – or, well, his back. It took him a long moment to remember that it was _Joker_ who was bracing himself against the workbench, leaning over slightly.

“What happened?” Akira asked groggily, struggling to sit up and hissing when the movement made pain flare on his chest. He glanced down and only caught a brief glance of red before a hand – his own – was tilting his chin back up. Joker had crossed the room in an instant.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Joker’s voice was just as carefree and confident as before, but Akira narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t exactly the same as it was this morning. He’d know. Joker laughed quietly. “My bad. I just got back. It seems like this whole flu season thing goes both ways.”

It was disconcerting to see the frown on his own lips and hear his voice so full of concern. From what Akira could see, Joker didn’t look injured – he looked exactly the same as he had that morning. “It was a Rangda,” Joker explained simply. “In Shibuya. It got a lucky hit in.” His frown deepened and he took off Akira’s glasses, reaching over Akira to set them on the windowsill. “I’m sorry.”

Akira shook his head, wincing a little and dislodging his chin from Joker’s grasp. “No – I mean, it’s fine. This is what _we_ do, right?” He gave Joker a tiny, lopsided smile before glancing down at his bloodstained black long sleeve, then looking back up at Joker. “Are … are you okay?”

Joker laughed, but Akira didn’t hear any humor in it. “You’re worried about me? How strange.” Akira flushed, but Joker just shook his head. “I feel the pain, but _I_ don’t take the damage.” Joker sounded like he wanted to say something else, but when Akira waited, he just glanced away briefly.

“Let’s get this shirt off,” Joker said suddenly, already toying with the edge of it. Akira felt his face heat up further, but Joker didn’t call him on it. “We need to see the damage. I have an idea, but I just want to … assess.”

“Alright,” Akira said after a moment, gripping the sides of his shirt and starting to pull up. Even with Joker helping him guide the fabric, as soon as he lifted his shoulders too much he hissed in pain again and stopped.

“Hurts?”

“… A little.”

Joker made a _tsk_ sound. “ _’A little,’_ he says. Can’t even lift his arms.” It sounded like he was muttering to himself more than to Akira. He glanced around, then held up a hand. A flash of blue fire converged into his open palm, and when he grabbed it the fire flickered out to reveal a familiar dagger instead. “Hope you don’t mind if I just cut this off. I think I made up the cost from the fight today, but you’ve been raking it in diving into Mementos so often, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” Akira said, sounding uncertain. It wasn’t the cost of the shirt that he was worried about, it was just … such a strange situation. If he wasn’t actually injured, he might have thought the entire day a particularly vivid hallucination and Sojiro might storm up the stairs any moment to demand why he was skipping, or – Akira cleared his throat to shake off the rapidly snowballing thoughts. “It’s fine. You can – yes, go ahead.”

Joker nodded and leaned forward, resting one knee on the bed beside Akira, so close that his hair tickled Akira’s cheek and his face was nearly tucked into the junction between his neck and shoulder. Akira sat stiff as a board as Joker started with his collar and began to slice downwards, gently tugging the fabric away from Akira’s skin with slow, aching gentleness. Once, Joker’s fingertips brushed Akira’s clavicle and he startled, making Joker hiss and grab his shoulder roughly to stop him from jerking too close to the blade. They sat frozen in an awkward half-embrace for a moment before Joker looked up and searched Akira’s eyes. “Are you alright? Try not to move. The dagger – I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I –I’m fine,” Akira said stiffly. They were both speaking softly, heads close together, as if speaking too loud would shatter the spell of stillness between them. As if looking away would bring the rest of the world back into focus and let it intrude between them. “Sorry,” Akira muttered after a minute, “keep … you can keep going.”

Joker just nodded, serious expression still on his face, and his fringe tickled Akira’s forehead before he leaned down again to continue slicing ever-so-carefully away at his shirt. While he worked, Akira let his mind wander. So close to Akira, practically draped over him, Joker wasn’t warm like another human would feel. He wasn’t cold, either, though – he was just a little warmer than the air in the rest of the room, and lighter than Akira but still somehow just as solid. That much Akira was certain when he couldn’t stop himself from gripping Joker’s upper arm lightly. _For support_. To steady himself.

“Done,” Joker breathed close to Akira’s ear. He pulled back slightly and gripped the half of the sliced-up shirt that was still clinging to Akira’s wounds. “I have to take this off. Are you ready?” Akira bit his lip and nodded. “Alright. You can hold on tighter, if you need to.” Joker’s lips quirked up into a smirk, and just as Akira was about to tell him to stop teasing him, he began to pull at the fabric. Akira groaned and his hands flew to Joker’s shoulders, grabbing them roughly. The process was slow going at first, until Joker could see that the fabric would come away cleanly, and then he muttered a quick _“sorry”_ and ripped the rest of the torn shirt free.

Akira bit back a curse as he flinched forward, his forehead falling against Joker’s shoulder as the air stung his wounds. Joker was silent and still while Akira breathed heavily against him, and a flash of blue flame flickered at the edge of Akira’s vision as Joker let the dagger disappear again. His now-free hand combed through Akira’s messy and somewhat sweaty hair, fingers untangling the slight curls in a repetitive, soothing motion. When was the last time anyone had cared for him like this?

After a long moment, at least a few seconds after Akira had actually caught his breath, he sat back up reluctantly. “Thanks,” he said uncertainly.

“For what?” Joker scoffed and leaned back before standing up. “As far as I’m concerned, this was my fault.”

Akira made a noise of confusion. “You went to school for me so I could rest. I don’t see how a Shadow appearing in Shibuya –“

“It’s because I’m here. Look, it’s just a hunch, but I think me being here let the Shadows be here too.” Joker sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The Metaverse is all about cognition, remember? So logic dictates that if I can materialize in the real world, so can Shadows. But so can Personas.”

Another wave of blue flame lit the room as the familiar giant golden clock materialized in the room, floating behind Joker impassively. “Of course, I can’t enter the Velvet Room myself. Good thing you had Norn with you, hm?” Akira opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Joker snapped his fingers and Norn spun slightly in the air before the familiar green light of Diarahan lit the bedroom. Akira breathed a sigh of relief as the pain on his chest disappeared and watched with fascination as the deep gashes closed before his eyes.

“I also attribute your injuries to my intervention,” Joker continued even as Norn faded away behind him. He was studying Akira’s now-unmarred chest. “In the Metaverse, ‘Joker’ takes on your injuries. A mask of cognition bearing the brunt of attacks from beings made from cognition in a cognitive world. No bleeding, no wounds, just Personas versus Shadows, etcetera, etcetera – it’s all cognitive. But mixing the cognitive and the real world – “

 _“Joker.”_ Akira cut his alter ego off abruptly. Joker’s mouth snapped shut and his lips were drawn in a thin line. He knew this habit of covering nervousness with logic. It was one he’d learned to suppress after his run-in with Shido all those months ago. He’d always been smart – but now he just kept it to himself. Joker didn’t need to. “It’s okay,” he said softly, watching Joker’s eyes widen a fraction as he said the words he’d wanted to hear from someone, anyone, just _once,_ “there’s nothing to feel bad about. If there is, I forgive you. I trusted you to take my place today – and I still do trust you. So … thanks. For being here for me.”

Joker looked stunned. His jaw worked for a second as he tried to figure out what to say before he let out a breathless, unbelieving laugh. “You sap,” he said with only barely concealed warmth in his voice. His expression softened, though, and Akira could see the relief in his eyes. “How can you say that with a straight face?”

Akira stuck his tongue out and threw the remains of his bloody shirt at Joker, who laughed again and caught it. Come to think of it, he hadn’t laughed this much in … a while. He trusted his _friends_ , but there was so much stress, so much _danger_ , that he still wasn’t sure when he could let all his walls down. With himself, however, there was no such fear. “Don’t tease me!”

“If you’re feeling well enough to throw your bloody shirt at me, I’m taking that as a good sign.” Joker’s usual smirk was coming back, and Akira smiled back at him, unable to keep the relief from his expression.

“So, now that we’ve been sitting around having a crisis for probably an hour, am I allowed to go eat something? I’ve been trapped in here all day.”

“Yeah, well, one of us had to go to school. And that’s a special kind of torture.”

Akira snorted and swatted Joker’s arm. “You lived, didn’t you? I do it every day. Just stay here. I’ll be right back.”

\-----

“All I’ve done today is sleep,” Akira complained when Joker pulled the covers up over him before sitting down on the edge of the bed, one hand brushing his hair out of his eyes. It had been a long day, admittedly, but the time he spent chatting with Joker after dinner and attempting to do homework for the class he didn’t actually attend went by in a flash. “You’re starting to sound like Morgana.”

“Perish the thought,” Joker said, scrunching his nose and grinning. “You’re right, but you’ve been sick. And then injured. That’s a lot for you to recover from.”

Akira just rolled his eyes, ignoring the snicker from his other self as he did so. They sat in silence for a long moment. “Will you …” Akira cleared his throat and glanced away, trailing off until Joker made a noise of encouragement. “You’ll be gone in the morning, won’t you?”

“… Yeah.” Joker tugged on his hair lightly to get Akira to look at him again. He frowned for a moment before breaking into another grin. “You aren’t saying you’ll miss me, are you?”

“I will,” Akira replied immediately. Joker fell silent, and Akira swore he saw red creeping up Joker’s cheeks.

Joker coughed quietly into his free hand. “W-well, I’ll … stay with you until you fall asleep. At least.”

Akira smiled up at Joker. If anyone had told him he’d be feeling this attached to his other self made real, he never would have believed them. But here he was. “Good,” he said cheekily, “that’s acceptable, I suppose.”

“Oh, really?” Joker’s grin returned, sharp at the edges and the mischief of the trickster Akira knew he was glinting in his eyes as he leaned down. Joker’s hand shifted to cup Akira’s face, and he caged Akira in with the other, planting it firmly on the pillow. “Then maybe you should show me just how much you’ll miss me.”

Akira smirked in return, reaching up to wrap his arms around Joker’s neck, one hand weaving through his hair and the other tugging at his neck. At the very last moment, he shifted his head, his lips barely brushing against the corner of Joker’s mouth.

“ _Punk_ ,” Joker breathed, and this time Akira felt the warm breath across his lips, chased immediately by Joker’s own.

As the space between them shrank, the heat between them only grew, flaring at the points they connected and making Akira all too aware of each place they touched. The feeling of Joker’s mouth moving against his own flared the brightest, taking up all of his thoughts, until Joker slid a hand under his shirt and up his side in a silent question.

Akira responded by tugging at Joker again, this time sending him off balance and making him gasp and throw his arm and leg out to stop himself from falling directly onto Akira. Joker pulled away and looked down at Akira, about to scold him, before he looked down further to the position they were now in. In his effort to catch himself, Joker had ended up half on the bed, one knee slotted between Akira’s legs and nearly straddling one of his thighs.

“You little –”

Joker cut himself off with a groan as Akira raised his knee to press it against his crotch, a cheeky half-smile on his face. “‘You little’ what, Joker?”

“Hm.” Joker hummed thoughtfully as he grinned and shifted positions so that he was entirely on the bed and straddling Akira properly. He leaned in closer, cupping Akira’s face with his hands and rubbing gentle circles on his cheeks with his thumbs. “Maybe you’re right,” he said thoughtfully, lips brushing against Akira’s as he spoke, “maybe you’re still too wound up to go back to sleep.”

“What, you mean you couldn’t tell?” Akira asked, grinning.

“Just the opposite. Haven’t you heard?” Joker’s expression was intense and almost hungry as he returned Akira’s grin with one of his own. “ _I am thou, thou art I._ Whatever you imagine me doing, wherever you imagine me touching –” Akira hissed sharply at the sudden warmth and pressure against his growing erection. “So shall it be.”

Akira flushed, images flashing in quick succession in his mind. Errant thoughts he’d had over the course of the day, questions of how Joker felt, questions of _if_ Joker felt, the building tension and electric charge between them. _The red glove dangling in Joker’s teeth. The way Joker leaned in so close to Akira’s face. The way the dagger just barely dragged against his skin as Joker cut his shirt off._ And now he knew that Joker heard all of those thoughts, too.

Just as naturally as his other errant thoughts came and went, a flicker of a desire passed through his mind. His grin returned and before Joker could call him on it, he shifted his hips and ground up. Both of them groaned in the same voice as their clothed erections rubbed against each other.

Taking advantage of Joker’s lapse in attention, Akira pulled him down again in a hungry kiss, biting Joker’s bottom lip once and then drawing back to catch his breath. From Joker’s wide eyes and heaving chest, Akira knew his guess was right. “Looks like it goes both ways,” he said smugly.

“And here I thought I had the upper hand.” Despite his words, Joker’s breathless whisper was almost reverent as he leaned down again.

For a long moment, their kiss was slow and tender, and Akira felt his heart swell with the relief of bearing himself to someone else so openly. There was nothing to hide from Joker, and Joker had nothing to hide from him. There were no masks, no need for the walls he’d spent so long building, no need for fear of consequence.

_Thy bond shall become the wings of rebellion and break the yoke of thy heart._

Akira smiled against Joker’s lips, and he felt Joker smile back.

It wasn’t long before their movements became frantic again and Joker’s hand began to slide down Akira’s side and tugged impatiently at the waistband of his pants. If, in the end, the only person he could truly trust was himself, well … Maybe that wasn’t so bad.

\-----

Akira woke up to the sound of his alarm, feeling awake, alert, and refreshed for the first time in days. Maybe a little sore, but the good sort of sore.

As he blindly felt around for his phone to turn it off, his hand knocked something flimsy off of the windowsill. Once he’d silenced his phone, he sat up and felt around until his fingertips brushed against a stiff piece of paper.

The small card was pitch black, save for a message written in red ink in his own handwriting.

_Dearest Akira Kurusu –_

_For far too long you have been alone behind your mask. You have given yourself to your cause again and again until you have nothing left to give. It is time for you to take for yourself. Your desires await you in Mementos._

_From,_

_The Phantom Thief_


End file.
